


Heaven Can Wait One More Night

by Squeevening



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeevening/pseuds/Squeevening
Summary: I offer you this headcanon for how Dean and Castiel spent that missing night together in 9.6 Heaven Can't Wait.(Dean takes Cas out to dinner and offers to share his motel room, Cas accidentally has a perfectly natural human reaction to something but wails that now he won't be able to sleep with one of these things, and Dean has to step up and be a pal and show him how you get rid of it. Awkward, sweet, and there's cuddling. :-D )
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94





	Heaven Can Wait One More Night

“Where to, Cas?”

Castiel didn’t answer this time, either, he just stared straight ahead out the windshield, his face mournful, and Dean gave up. He shifted Baby into drive, and pulled away from the curb, in the opposite direction of the Gas ‘n Sip, waiting to see if Cas would say anything.

He didn’t, settling into Baby’s upholstery with a soft sigh like Dean had done his entire life, and Dean nodded to himself in unconscious commiseration.

_She’s a good girl._

Dean caressed her steering wheel, reaching forward to switch on the radio. There was a seventies station coming into this town, and - _Aww yeah,_ ‘Whole Lotta Love’ was still in the first verse. Dean’s fingertips tapped along on the steering wheel as he turned onto the highway and gave Baby her head, back towards that Roadhouse he’d seen a few miles out of town.

Castiel didn’t say a word, just leaned back into the passenger seat and shut his eyes, his face vaguely melancholy, and Dean’s chest ached while his mind furiously worked up half a dozen different conversational gambits, only to reject them out of hand.

_Fucking Christ I’d like to stab Zeke in the eyeballs just about now. I wish they weren’t Sam’s too -_

Castiel’s stomach chose that moment to make an audible growling noise, and Dean knew he’d chosen wisely as he signaled the turn and pulled into the roadhouse's parking lot, already hopping with a dozen cars and a row of bikes outside.

“Hungry, Cas?”

Castiel’s shook his head dismissively, his eyes fluttering open to take in the glowing neon sign of the dive bar through the windshield, his stomach betraying him with another growl just as his face went into full prevarication mode.

Castiel sighed and gave up trying to deny it. He nodded slowly, carefully not looking at Dean.

“Yes. I am always hungry, I think, or at least there is always pain in my stomach. I did not understand that being human was so _exhausting,_ Dean, and so miserable all the time, no wonder Ephraim was so confused -"

Castiel cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head again, as if to banish his thoughts. 

"In any case, I thought Nora and I were going to eat dinner together, so I didn’t eat the expired hot dogs tonight, which I now greatly regret.”

Dean tried not to let his dismay show, but he couldn’t stop the whispered question from escaping his lips.

“ _Expired?_ ”

“From the rolling tray that keeps them hot. They can only stay on the device for twelve hours, then they must be discarded. There’s a clipboard we keep track of the times on.”

Dean held his breath, trying not to betray the sudden pain in his stomach. 

Castiel took his silence as needing more explanation.

“I have found they are still perfectly edible at twelve hours and a few minutes, and no one notices if I eat them in the back room instead of putting them in the garbage can.” 

Castiel sighed heavily, peering out the window at the flickering sign for the bar, while his stomach made another audible complaint.

“In any case, I have no money for other food, Dean. I spent my paycheck this week on a bag for sleeping, and hygiene products, and I am saving what was left over for more clothes. Clothes get so much dirtier than I expected I think having more of them would save money on the laundromat, since several days’ worth could be washed at once. And then I wouldn’t have to wear them damp sometimes, either.”

Dean couldn't breathe, and he abruptly opened his door to leap out into the night, collecting himself for a few seconds until he trusted his voice to speak, then leaning down to catch Castiel’s confused eye.

“Come on, Cas. Dinner’s my treat.”

“But I have no way to repay you -”

“Cas, how many times have you saved my life? Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Dean slammed his car door shut with a little more force than he meant to, and he blew out a frustrated breath and sucked in another, waiting to find out if Cas would do as he’d asked voluntarily, or if he was going to have to drag his ass inside.

  
  
  


***

  
  


Castiel finished chewing the last bite of his second bacon cheeseburger, swallowed, and went right on talking as if he hadn't paused his conversation to eat an entire second plate of food, while Dean sipped his beer and watched him, amused and vaguely impressed.

“The worst part is, Dean, I wasn’t even sure Ephraim was _wrong._ ” 

Castiel waved a french fry at Dean for emphasis, before dipping it in _way_ too much ketchup, popping it in his mouth, and continuing to talk right through it.

“Being human _is_ to suffer. Every human is in existential anguish, Dean, from the very moment they are born until they draw their last rattling breath, I couldn’t argue with him about that. But what I want to know is, is existing through that pain the _point_ of being human? Is that my father’s ineffable plan, is the suffering some sort of _test,_ to find out what they can endure? What kind of valor they can achieve through their struggles _despite_ the endless pain in their fragile bodies and their even more fragile spirits?”

Dean shook his head no, both to Castiel’s conjecture and at their surprisingly attractive waitress, silently lifting an eyebrow to ask if they needed another round. Dean’s eyebrows answered that his friend had already had plenty, and the girl grinned and winked and spun away on her heel, Dean trying his damndest not to watch her go.

“I don’t think so, Cas. I don’t think god gets his hands that dirty. I think all us sorry bastards down here are on our own, and god doesn’t give a shit if we suffer or don’t, it just is what it is, and we have to do the best we can with what we’ve got.”

Dean shrugged, watching Castiel’s mournful stare slip sideways from his empty plate to follow their waitress, Castiel’s attention _much_ more obvious than Dean’s had been.

Dean cleared his throat pointedly, and Castiel instantly turned to meet his eyes, reaching for the last of his current beer, long fingers wrapping around the bottle in a way that Dean inexplicably had to tear his eyes away from watching.

“Do you need to leave with her?” Castiel asked, his voice not nearly as quiet as he intended it to be, and Dean shook his head in surprise, a warning on his face. Castiel dropped his voice conspiratorially, leaning forward as if he were now in on the secret.

“Like hunger, sex turns out to be a pressing human need I neither understood, nor anticipated how to meet. I was hoping tonight, Nora an' I - “ 

Castiel fell silent at the shock on Dean’s face, shock and something else he didn’t recognize, but definitely not a _good_ emotion, and he shrugged noncommittally, draining the rest of his fourth or maybe fifth beer - Dean hadn’t thought to count, but now he wished he had - and setting the empty bottle down with obvious regret.

“In any case, I'm clearly incapable of communicating with other humans in that regard - as in so many others, I s'pose - but our waitress seems to like you, 'n if you need to leave me here to have intercourse with her I certainly unnerstan'."

Dean stared at Castiel, utterly speechless, as Castiel blithely continued, the last of his beer sidling up to his tongue and making it thick and unwieldy in his mouth.

"Th' food has done me wonders, thank you, Dean. I no longer feel faint, which 'm learning can be n'unfortunate side effect of the hunger pain. M'eyes were shut for part of the drive, but if you can point me in the right direction, can surely fin' my own way back -”

“Cas, _no way._ It’s like ten miles -”

"Can walk _many_ miles, Dean, ten 'seasy - “

“ _No,_ Cas. I’m here _with you,_ Okay?”

The surprised pleasure blooming on Castiel’s face was worth any sacrifice - not that Dean would have left him tonight without at least giving him a _ride home -_ his smile so bright Dean’s chest hurt, and Dean slid out of their booth decisively, reaching for his wallet to pull out a wad of bills and drop them on the table.

“Come on, Cas.”

“Zit time t' go? Already?”

Castiel could not hide the quaver in his voice, and Dean reached for his friend’s shoulder as Cas pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, rolling his eyes just a tiny bit in Castiel’s direction and smiling goodbye at their waitress on their way past, steering Castiel unobtrusively through the crowd and out the door, before answering him over the hood of his Baby like their evening had begun.

“Let’s grab a six pack and an apple pie for dessert, and we can hang out in my motel room, if you want? It’s only got one bed, but it’s a king, and I’ve got HBO?”

Castiel’s face lit up with hope, but when he excitedly asked the question, the slightly slurred question on his lips made Dean have to look away again, his stomach twisting around the bacon cheeseburger inside it.

“May I - would 't be alright 'f I used your shower?“

Dean slid into his Baby and fired her up before he trusted his voice enough to answer.

“Yes, of _course_ , Cas. No problem at all.”

_I am going to murder Zeke with my bare hands, the very second Sammy’s safe._

  
  


***

  
  


The motel room was no big deal, the kind of roadside attraction time forgot, with every door to the street and faded fifties everything, but Castiel was charmed beyond measure. He turned in a slow circle in unmitigated delight, his eyes wide like Dean had invited him into a suite at the Hilton, and Dean felt an inexplicable mixture of guilt and pleasure, waving at Cas to make himself at home as he dropped the gas station pie and six pack on the chipped formica table and heaved his duffel off his shoulder.

“Gonna find you an FBI shirt or two, Cas, but you’re on your own for pants, okay? Unless you can hem them by hand?”

Castiel was exploring, bouncing on the bed experimentally, his face filled with such pleasure Dean didn’t dare ask what he’d been sleeping on lately. He’d automatically picked Sam’s side, which made Dean feel weird that Cas knew that much about him, but he didn’t say anything, popping the cap off one of the twist-offs and draining half of it in several long gulps, pulling it away from his lips to burp with great satisfaction, realizing belatedly that Castiel was watching him now, a soft smile playing over his lips.

“Whassa, a Neff Bee Aye shirt?”

Dean set his beer down to hold up a finger, rummaging around in his duffel until he found his FBI getup, two shirts and a pair of pants with him this trip.

“These. I already wore this set but just once, and they _should_ fit you, maybe a little long -”

Castiel was already out of his shirt, struggling, now, with his pants, and Dean watched helplessly as Castiel got himself down to boxer briefs and eagerly crossed the space between them, bare feet padding across the faded linoleum, his arms outstretched.

_Have I ever seen his feet before?_ Castiel’s feet were the same size as his, perfectly formed, his toenails carefully trimmed - _when did he learn how to do that? -_ but Cas had to be what, three inches shorter than him? Did that mean - 

Dean pulled up from trying _really_ hard not to check out Castiel’s package, to hand him the shirt in his hands, realizing only as Castiel snatched it unsteadily from his fingers that it was the one he’d already worn.

“Shoot, that’s the dirty one, Cas, try on this one -”

It was too late of course, Castiel already had Dean’s shirt pulled on over his arms and shoulders, was already struggling with the buttons, his tipsy fingers fumbling and clumsy, and he looked up at Dean after the third try, his face vaguely hopeful as he held out his wrists plaintively for help.

It felt weird, maybe too intimate a request, but Dean was already buttoning Castiel’s wrists, already reaching for the buttons at Castiel’s waist, before he could find a way to articulate maybe this was something friends didn’t do for each other, Castiel’s breath rasping over his lips in rapt attention hypnotic somehow, Castiel’s attention heavy on his hands as they rose towards his neck, buttoning each button in turn, until he discovered he was short a button, and Dean shook his head, smiling, rapidly reversing course to try again, unbuttoning his way down Castiel’s chest, Castiel’s eyes widening in surprise.

Dean paused at Castiel’s navel, the view impressively different now, and he lifted his eyes to Castiel’s face with a wry smile on his lips, expecting to find embarrassment, and finding instead only irritation.

“Everything... alright, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head in frustration, his furious scowl not at all what Dean expected.

“ _No,_ Dean, I _hate_ when tha’ happens. You mus’ have reminded my body of something _April_ did, an’ now I’ll have nightmares, if I can sleep at all.” 

Castiel gripped his erection angrily through his briefs, his rage pushing Dean back a step, Dean shaking his head at himself, suddenly, to realize that the boner hadn’t.

“Can’t sleep when this happ’ns.”

Dean stared at Castiel, utterly baffled.

“Why don’t you, uh, just take care of it, Cas? In the shower?”

“Showering helps?”

Dean nodded yes, shrugging helplessly. 

_Does he not know how to jerk off?_

“Alright, thank you, Dean.”

Castiel was shrugging out of the shirt already, absently sniffing it as he handed it back to Dean to murmur, “Doesn’t smell dirty. Smells nice. Like you,” bending down to step out of his briefs and head for the bathroom, Dean turning away with a small yelp of surprise, Castiel’s unintentional compliment burning in his chest, while the eyeful he’d just gotten tried to burn out his retinas.

_Jesus. Long fingers, long… everything._

Dean grabbed another beer and plopped down on the end of the bed to collect himself, flipping on the TV to be polite, and because he absolutely, positively, did not want to overhear Castiel _taking care of his boner in the shower._

_Jesus. What a waste, on an angel._

_He’s not an angel anymore._

Dean idly picked at the label of his beer, thinking about what _April_ may have done to Cas, and how much unseemly satisfaction it gave him to hear Castiel spit her name out with revulsion like that. 

_She took *everything* from him, and then she took him from *me*._

Dean had never hated anyone more in his life. Not Zeke for making him kick Cas out of the bunker, not Lucifer for fucking with Sam, not even Yellow Eyes. He hated them all _so much,_ but April just a little bit more, and he sipped his beer and wondered about that, staring blankly at the television without paying any attention until he heard the water stop, only then focusing on the television screen enough to realize he was technically watching porn.

It was two chicks going to town on each other and Dean just shrugged and left it, completely disinterested in the television or the dubbed moaning, trying to convince himself the sympathetic arousal simmering in his blood was probably from the porn and not at all because he’d spent the last fifteen minutes wondering how Cas was doing in there with that giant dick in his hand.

Castiel stepped out of the bathroom still drying himself with a towel, his face tired and unhappy. He did not look relaxed at all, and Dean couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down and then back up, Castiel’s predicament clearly still in full effect.

“It didn’t work,” Castiel sighed, desultorily collapsing onto his back on his side of the bed. He dropped his damp towel and pushed it off the bed onto the floor, glaring at his offending erection in frustration, while Dean made a tiny, “EEP,” sound and fled to the kitchenette, to busy himself with opening a fresh beer.

“I thought you said you aren’t supposed to watch porn in a room with other guys,” Castiel accused, the alcohol apparently already gone from his tongue, and Dean stared at him, his mouth falling open.

“You aren’t supposed to hang out with your boner out, either,” Dean finally managed, regretting it instantly as Castiel’s face free fell about a thousand feet and he rolled away, reaching for his towel, to wrap it self-consciously around his waist, searching the floor until he found his briefs. He lifted them to his face to sniff and grimaced, and Dean silently pulled a fresh pair out of his duffel and brought them over, his face just as crimson as Cas’s.

“Thank you,” Castiel muttered, pulling them on without meeting Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. The men at the Y display theirs without shame, some of them even copulating with one another in the steam room or the showers.” 

Castiel’s voice dropped to a barely audible murmur, but Dean heard every word as if he were shouting, holding his expression perfectly blank while the inexplicable thrill tickled up and down his spine. 

_“I wish I’d known how to ask, but no one invited me to -_ “ 

Castiel cut himself off abruptly, still not meeting Dean’s eyes. 

_Oh, Cas, you sweet summer child._

“I didn’t realize I was disturbing you. I am _so_ sorry, Dean.”

“It’s okay,” Dean lied, putting the sum total of his entire career of professional lying to shame with the pure conviction he poured into the biggest whopper he’d ever told in his life. 

“We’re friends, so it’s no big deal. I was just saying, in general.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, his eyes searching Dean’s face.

“I’m sure,” Dean lied, staring his friend in the eyes for all he was worth.

Castiel heaved an enormous sigh of relief, and Dean did too, on the inside.

“Oh good. I thought you’d make me lie on the couch, since I made you uncomfortable, and I want to be comfortable while I wait. This body is sore, in the hips. From the floor.”

“Wait for what? Wait, what do you mean, the floor?”

Castiel waved vaguely at his dick, too exhausted to work up rage anymore. 

“Wait for this thing to go away; I can’t sleep until it’s gone.” 

Castiel’s face went blank as he considered the rest of his answer, finally muttering, “The… place I’m sleeping... has no bed. Yet. I’ll have one soon.”

Castiel was a _much_ worse liar than Dean in any universe, but possibly the _worst_ in this one, and Dean didn’t press him, the sorrow in his heart mostly feeling like guilt. Instead, he tugged at the thread, wincing against the unravelling he knew would follow, but still, somehow, couldn’t bring himself to believe.

“There’s like twenty channels of porn, Cas, and pay-per-view besides. Whatever you’re into. I can wait in the bathroom, if you still need to… take care of that.”

“I don’t understand. If I watch pornography, this will go away?”

Dean nonchalantly took another swig of beer and then took the plunge, keeping his voice as light as he knew how.

“Sure, after you jack off, I mean. You know how to do that, don’t you, Cas?”

Castiel’s silence was his only answer, and Dean met his friend’s eyes with a straight face, mentally giving himself about a thousand pats on the back for managing it.

“Is that another way to say masturbating?”

“Yup. So you _do_ know?”

“I know that humans feel terribly guilty about it, and waste a great deal of time praying for forgiveness afterwards. I know that - just like human sexual orientation - god has never cared about that _at all_ and that the angels - the ones with a sense of humor anyway - find it hilarious. Beyond that, I never cared enough to find out. Is that something that would help?”

Dean couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, and when Castiel grinned back, the first joy on his face Dean had seen all day, Dean felt giddy, suddenly, to see it. Maybe it was this particular beer loosening his tongue and stealing his inhibition, or maybe it was wanting to see Cas smile again, it just slipped out.

“ _Yes,_ Cas. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“You _will?”_

_Oh Fuck, wait, -_

“Let’s see if there’s a channel on TV with someone doing that, okay?”

“Okay!”

  
  


***

  
  


By the time they’d flipped through all the channels, none of which had any solo guy action going, Dean had an uncomfortable boner, and an even more uncomfortable dread swirling in the pit of his stomach, his nerves jangling as Castiel begged him distractedly, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Can’t you just show me on yourself? I can copy what you do - wait, do you need to do anything special to get an erection first? I don’t know how I get them, it just happens -”

“Uh, I’m all good,” Dean whispered, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, uncertain.

“Cas, I don’t know if this is a great idea.“

Castiel’s breath blew out in a long, body-wracking shudder, staring at the people fucking on the screen. When he tore his eyes away to look at Dean they were glazed, from lust or pain or both, Dean couldn’t tell.

“ _Please,_ Dean. I am _miserable_ like this, _please help me._ ”

Castiel was already staring at the screen again, his breathing ragged and heavy, and Dean shut his eyes for a second, collecting himself.

_It’s just a threeway; me, the hot chick with the great rack on the screen, and my buddy Cas. No eye contact, no touching, piece of cake, done it a zillion times. You got this._

“Yeah, okay, Cas, I guess friends help each other out...”

His eyes fluttered open to find Castiel staring at him instead of the screen, and he pretended the frisson of arousal tickling low in his gut was for the blonde getting railed on TV, and had nothing to do with the weight of Castiel’s glance, following his hands with interest as he pulled his tee shirt over his head and dropped it on the bed, subtly checking his pits on the way by.

_Been worse._

Castiel picking up his shirt to sniff it was a surprise, as was his happy sigh before dropping it again.

“You smell good, Dean. I never noticed before I was human.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” 

Castiel reached for a couple of the pillows piled behind them on the bed, shucking his borrowed underwear and propping himself up beside Dean, so close Dean could feel the heat of his body, his heart starting to pound as he tried to think of a way to articulate, “ _That’s a little closer than I expected us to be sitting while I show you how to jack off, no homo -_ “ and came up entirely dry.

_Alrighty then, let’s get this over with…_

Dean self-consciously unhooked his belt and slid his zipper down under Castiel’s rapt attention, his heart jackhammering in his throat. He shimmied his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh, keeping them at least _partly_ on suddenly _really_ important, his skin rippling with chills as Castiel openly stared at his dick, his interest heavy and pleasant, Dean’s dick twitching under the weight of it.

“Like what you see, Cas?”

Dean didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out, his voice half an octave lower than usual, and he couldn’t tell which of them was more startled for the half second until Castiel replied; then it was _definitely_ him.

“Yes. I always felt a certain peace, or contentment, perhaps, looking at your soul, but even though I can’t see your soul anymore, observing your body is still pleasurable. Looking at you makes me feel... good. You are a beautiful human, Dean. Will you please take off your jeans, so I can see the rest of you?”

Dean’s jeans were on the floor before his conscious mind had made the decision, Castiel’s happy little sigh as he openly admired Dean’s body making Dean feel all sorts of warm and tingly but mostly incredibly horny, and he swallowed thickly and reached for the packet of lube with trembling fingers, the girl on the television entirely forgotten.

“Okay, first hold some of this in your hand so it gets warm…”

Castiel accepted the remaining half-packet of lube Dean handed him, squeezing the rest of the packet into his hand and making a face at the sensation.

“You get used to it,” Dean soothed, smiling. “It’s worth it, I promise. Okay, when it’s warm, wrap your hand around your dick, like this.”

Dean demonstrated, gasping as his hand closed around the base of his cock, Castiel’s attention far more arousing than it had any right to be.

Castiel wasn’t following suit, his breath rasping over his tongue as he stared, and Dean lifted his glance to check on him, accidentally breaking his first cardinal rule as his eyes locked with Castiel’s wide-eyed, almost frantic stare, the _definite_ lust in his eyes pulling a gasp to Dean’s lips as his hand slowly slid up his cock and started back down, muscle memory taking over but the sensation _so much more arousing_ than usual he had to pause, almost whimpering, still staring at Castiel’s face, but his eyes falling, accidentally, to his mouth.

Castiel swallowed and the spell was broken, a wash of embarrassment flooding Dean as he broke his glance away from Castiel’s face to look at Cas’s hand, still held out, frozen, in the air.

“Put your hand around your dick, Cas,” Dean whispered, his voice so husky he could barely get the words out.

Castiel startled, tearing his eyes away from Dean’s face to look down at his hand, and then wrap his fingers tentatively around his dick, squeezing so hard he hissed, his dick instantly turning red, his face pained.

“ _Not so hard,”_ Dean instructed, nodding as Castiel relaxed his grip, sliding his hand rapidly up and down his cock now, his face registering confused discomfort.

_Was it that hard to learn?_

Dean reached back through the mists of time to vaguely recall fumbling experiments in the dark, and he flushed furiously even thinking about it now. 

_Oh god, it *was*._

“Not like that, Cas. Like this.”

Dean demonstrated, slowly sliding his hand up his cock again, gulping at how much better that felt than usual, trying to hide how turned on he was as some sort of point of pride, like if he could keep his cool this wouldn’t be weird. 

Dean abruptly let go as he got a little too close, leaning back on his elbows and trying to hide how heavily he was breathing, the sudden, burning question on his mind taking up every ounce of his concentration. 

_Were we gonna go all the way on this?_

“Okay, Cas, now you try.”

Castiel nodded, startling Dean beyond words when his hand reached out obediently to break cardinal rule number two, wrapping around _Dean’s_ cock - _way_ too tightly - and slowly sliding up, then down, before Dean could find his sputtering words.

“ _Too tight -_ uh, okay that’s - Ah - that’s - AH - _really good_ \- AHH - _Stop!_ ”

Castiel stopped immediately, releasing Dean’s dick and watching with great interest as Dean’s entire body shuddered, his dick twitching, seeping a little arousal as he tried desperately to catch his breath.

“I meant try on, uh, _yourself_ , Cas.”

“ _Oh!_ Okay.”

Castiel’s tone was eager, not embarrassed at all, and Dean decided not to tell him about cardinal rule number two, watching instead as Castiel wrapped his hand around his own cock and put his new skills to the test, slowly sliding up and down, Dean’s skin rippling with chills as Castiel groaned in surprised pleasure and redoubled his efforts, hiding neither his rapid breathing, nor his delicious little moans and groans and gasps, his face alternating between surprised delight and raw pleasure in a way that made Dean’s entire body hum with desperate arousal, tension simmering under his skin.

Dean was transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away until - _Yup, guess we are -_ Castiel’s back arched and his hand stopped moving except to grip himself tightly, Castiel’s little whimpering noises _killing_ Dean as he watched him spill his pleasure over his fist and onto his stomach, gasping and shuddering, finally dipping a finger into the puddle in his navel, to lift it curiously to his lips, his eyes innocently lifting to Dean’s, half-lidded now, Castiel’s relieved satisfaction palpable, every last bit of his tension hammering a staccato shuffle ball change now, in Dean’s blood.

“Did I do it right?”

Castiel was still breathing heavily, his pupils wide and dark, and Dean couldn’t find his speech centers, just nodded, his own breath coming hard and sharp, his body frozen in place, not even believing his ears as Castiel absently reached for his towel to wipe his stomach and looked up at him again, his face innocently eager.

“Can I do yours?”

“Wh- What?”

“Your erection. Can I get rid of yours now? For practice?”

Dean stared in shock at Castiel’s hopeful face, trying to figure out how to explain that guy friends just didn’t _do_ that for each other, hot on the heels of the lies he’d told tonight, his body betraying him as his chin dipped forward in a single nod, his eyelashes fluttering in anticipation, Castiel leaning forward now, hot breath whispering across Dean’s cock as he studied the end of it where Dean’s arousal was glistening. 

Dean stifled a yelp as Castiel wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it down experimentally, then back up, his eyes lifting to meet Dean’s, another question on his face.

“May I taste you?”

“W- What???”

Dean's breath huffed out over swollen lips he’d just been biting, his back arching involuntarily into Castiel’s clumsy fist. It didn’t _matter,_ his touch felt _fantastic,_ and his lips were hovering near the end of Dean’s cock now, hot breath huffing out in fresh arousal as his heavy gaze dropped to Dean’s dick again, his voice low and guttural.

“I want to taste you. You smell _so good_ . _Please_ , will you let me?”

Castiel’s eyes lifted to meet Dean’s again, his pupils just as flared as Dean’s.

“I know how to do this, I think. I watched the men in the steam room do this for each other, and they seemed to enjoy it - “

“You _watched?_ ” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s hand was sliding over Dean's cock again, slow and steady, and Dean’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes rolling back a little at how _Fucking. Good_ this felt, his breath shuddering out in a rush as he fought himself, trying to find the strength to say no.

“They smiled at me, so I didn’t think they minded. _Please,_ Dean, I suddenly want to do this _very_ _badly_ , I don’t know why. _I’ve never wanted anything more._ ”

Castiel’s breath whispered over the end of Dean’s cock again as he begged, leaning in close, his hand hypnotically rising and falling, and Dean lost his fight, reluctantly nodding his permission as his eyes fluttered shut in embarrassment, then flew open again in shock as the searing heat of Castiel’s mouth sank down over the head of his cock and just… kept going, swallowing him down and down, until he was fucking Castiel’s throat, everything surreal now, this impossible thing happening, Castiel’s eagerness more arousing than any level of competence Dean had ever experienced, Castiel's obvious relish utterly incendiary.

Dean’s garbled cry of astonishment rapidly became a crescendo of desperate groans as Castiel moaned around his cock, sliding his throat up and down _just_ a little - _Jesus who was he *watching* hand them a fucking gold STAR -_ Castiel’s slick hand reaching down to cradle Dean’s balls, gently caressing, tickling back behind them, Dean’s tension rising suddenly, almost violently, and he tried to tap out with a warning cry, but Castiel only doubled down on his efforts, swallowing and swallowing as Dean bucked and twitched and _roared_ his pleasure into the crook of his own elbow; into the searing heat of Castiel’s eager throat.

Castiel slid his lips off Dean’s cock, gulping in a huge breath, almost hyperventilating as he reached for his own cock again, breaking cardinal rule number one with impunity as he stared at Dean intently, his chest heaving with every rasping breath. Dean found himself utterly powerless to look away, he didn’t even try, helpless even to blink, as Castiel slid his hand rapidly over his cock, already worlds better at it, to Dean’s shocked but practiced eye.

Castiel came in seconds this time, collapsing onto his back so close to Dean their shoulders were touching, and Dean guiltily savored the touch, still panting, reaching for a pillow for himself so he could interlock his fingers behind his head, savoring this feeling and ignoring the real world threatening to encroach on this impossible moment.

When Castiel turned his head and sniffed him, sighing happily, Dean pretended that was a totally normal thing to do, and when Castiel shimmied his back across the bed to share Dean’s pillow, his head nestling in the crook of Dean’s arm, Dean went ahead and pretended that was fine, too, guiltily savoring the heat of Castiel’s body pressing against his side.

When Castiel let out a soft snore Dean gave up on normal, reaching out to grab the edge of the comforter and pull it over both of them like a soft-shell taco, his eyes fluttering shut as he wrapped his arms around Castiel and nestled his chest to his friend’s back, sighing in contentment that no one was there to overhear.

_Sometimes the sorry bastards down here have a pretty great night, all things considered._

  
  


***

  
  


Dean slammed Baby’s trunk shut over his duffel, stepping around to slip into her driver’s side seat, still searching for anything to say beyond, “Would you like some pie?”

Castiel had shaken him awake at the crack of dawn, already dressed and ready to go to work, with barely enough time for Dean to shower and get his shit in the car, and Castiel had shaken his head no thank you to pie, his urgency about work contagious enough that Dean had packed his pie to go.

He still needed to say _something_ though, and when he turned the key in the ignition he didn’t press the gas immediately, staring straight ahead and chewing on his lip.

Castiel spoke first, his voice quiet and shy.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean looked up, surprised, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank _you._ I had, uh, a really nice night.”

Dean looked away, embarrassed at the inadequacy of his words.

Castiel’s hand on his wrist pulled Dean’s startled glance to his face again, his eyes searching.

“I understand that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, Dean.”

“You know we’re not in Vegas, right, Cas?”

“I _understand_ that what you helped me with made you uncomfortable, but that you helped me anyway, so I mean that I won’t talk about it with you - or anyone else - to avoid causing you further distress. I didn’t have anyone else to ask, and I will _greatly_ enjoy the knowledge you taught me last night, so... _Thank you,_ Dean.”

Castiel’s emphasis on the word “greatly” pulled a smirk to Dean’s lips, and the answering smile slowly spreading across Castiel’s face made every moment of last night entirely worth it.

“Yeah?”

The secret, hate-shaped jealousy that had taken up residence in the pit of Dean’s stomach since the moment Dean had discovered Castiel thought an angel blade worked like a condom must have shown on his face, because Castiel’s answer soothed it away, leaving only a warm glow in the place where it had been gnawing his stomach lining raw.

“Yeah. The parts that I can do on my own, I mean. I don’t want to go back to Vegas with anyone but you, Dean. Not anymore.”

Dean blew out a breath; no possible way to approach that presenting itself, so he didn’t even try. He shifted his Baby into drive, the only thought on his mind now finding a way to apologize for what Zeke had made him do to Cas.

_I’d take care of you if I could, Cas, I’m so sorry._

_I mean, if god doesn’t care, why the hell should I? If solitaire blew your mind, I’d love to teach you how to play five card stud. Or slots. Or hell, even european roulette. If life weren’t such an endless fucking river of shit, we could *move* to Vegas, you and me, my hand to that fucking dick of a god._

Dean’s fingertips drummed on Baby’s steering wheel to the beat of whatever music was playing in his head, and Castiel stared straight ahead, far away now, worrying about something Ephraim had said; the weight of the world he hadn’t felt for a few hours turning around and around to make a nest, and flopping heavily back down onto his shoulders.

  
  


****

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
